Survive
by Rellik 01011993
Summary: Sherlock gets them into a situation, it's up to John to get them out.


Sherlock was berating himself. How had he gotten them into this situation? How on earth had he let his pride and arrogance blind him so completely that he didn't see the threat? Now Lestrade, Anderson and Sally were tied to posts on either side of him. That wasn't the worst of it though, the worst of it was the fact that John was standing in the middle of the room. Warily watching the mountain of a man who was circling him.

They had been on the case long enough that they all knew what was going to happen. John would be forced to fight for his life, and theirs. None of the previous victims had won the fight. They had all been found beaten to death. Their friends laid out beside them, untouched other than the slit across their throats.

The foreseeable death didn't bother Sherlock, it was bound to happen sometime after all. What did bother him though was the thought of watching John be beaten to death. Considerate and gentle, the doctor rarely even raised his voice at people.

When John's opponent took his first, forceful swing, Sherlock couldn't help but wince. Only, the punch didn't touch John. He danced out of the way on the balls of his feet, hands held at waist level while he waited for an opening. He dodged several more powerful punches before he finally saw what he had been waiting for.

Sherlock saw the difference a split second could make. One moment he was the normal John, watching and waiting, patient, and the next he was cold and calculating. Landing punches that would cause the most damage. First a broken nose and two black eyes, make it harder for the other man to see and watch. Then as many blows to the kidneys as he could manage before he had to dance back out of reach again.

Throughout John's attack, his opponent landed several blows, but nothing seemed to detach John from his intent assessment. Blood trickled from a split lip and busted nose, and he would occasionally spit out a mouthful of red, but he remained focused on his target. Sherlock could have sworn he heard ribs crack when a blow made contact with John's side, but his flatmate just kept on moving, assessing.

Sherlock watched as John, the doctor, systematically caused as much damage as possible to another human being. And then aimed for places he had already struck, inflicting more pain over damaged areas. All the while his eyes were cold, assessing… _not John_. At least…not any version of John that Sherlock had seen so far. But maybe this actually was John was well, just a part of him he didn't allow out very often.

When his bad shoulder got dislocated Sherlock was almost sick at the thought of the agony John had to be feeling. That shoulder was still painful on the best of days, bumping into strangers on the street sometimes almost put him to his knees in pain. The only response now was a grimace of pain and a careful realignment of how he faced off with his opponent.

Eventually the giant fell and John held him in a choke hold until Sherlock was certain the man must almost be dead. Not that he really cared, the guy had been intent on hurting John, and he deserved whatever happened to him. Lestrade, however, had concerns.

"John, please, don't kill him. I don't want to have to arrest you tonight instead of a serial killer." He spoke quietly, fully aware that this was John's decision to make. What worried him though was that he had never seen John like this before. Had no idea what kind of decision he would make when he was in this state.

John finally let the guy go and rose to his feet, shaking his head. "Just knocking him out. I don't know about you all, but if he gets up, I don't think I'll be able to put him down again." John answered, glancing around out of their view before coming over to cut them loose. He'd picked up a knife and a handgun. He cut Lestrade free first, handing him the handgun in case the big guy managed to wake and get up. Next was Sally and Anderson, a tilt of the head to show them where he'd seen a phone.

Finally he started on Sherlock's restraints. "You alright Sherlock?" he asked under his breath as he worked on the ropes around Sherlock's wrists.

Sherlock studied him for several seconds. Split lip swelling. Broken nose crooked and bleeding. Large bruise rising over ribs that were no doubt broken. Dislocated shoulder swelling more and more by the minute. "Let me relocate your shoulder and then we'll talk about it…" Sherlock offered worriedly, waiting for the ambulance to get to them would just make things more painful for John.

John took a breath to steady himself and nodded, eyes intent. Sherlock got the feeling that this was how he had looked during the war. Intent on the next job to be done, intent on surviving the next threat, eyes forward at all times. Sherlock was starting to realise that he had survived that war because he could ignore everything else and focus on what had to be done, no matter how horrifying or painful, and then _make himself do it_.

People didn't tend to take him seriously because he was so meek and polite. Dressed to blend into the background. Never drew attention to himself unless he had to, and then it was in a way that made people forget. Sherlock was starting to think maybe all of that wasn't John's natural state, maybe all of that was to _hide_ his natural state and make life easier.

The shoulder went back into place and Sherlock felt the sickening grinding of bone against socket. "So sorry I put you in danger…didn't realise…didn't even _see_ …could never forgive myself…" Sherlock was muttering now that John was sitting beside him, the killer was on the ground and Lestrade had backup on the way, as well as an ambulance for John.

Much to Sherlock's surprise, John merely chuckled. "Sherlock, do you really think _you_ are responsible for my safety?" his smile was kind, the one that put wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and meant he was affectionate of whoever he was looking at. "You may be a genius, but you are bloody stupid sometimes. Anyone crazy enough to follow you around ought to be able to protect themselves, and you. Which, funnily enough, is part of why I follow you around – you're bound to get yourself into some serious trouble one day and someone needs to be there to bail you out."


End file.
